Salem School of Witchcraft
by Foosemittee
Summary: A young Harry Potter fan finds herself accepted into a prestigious Massechusetts school-for witches. Apparently, Harry Potter is real, but she's about to learn that American witchcraft is literally a whole other story.
1. America

I've never been fond of private schools; too much politics, too many rich kids. Then again, I never thought I'd receive a letter from the Salem School of Witchcraft…nor did I expect it to come five years late.

Apparently, girls are sent to SSW when they're sixteen, but how was I to know that? I assumed that it had been lost in the mail when I was eleven.

Obviously a JK Rowling fan would find American witchcraft confusing.

…

I stepped into the airport in Massachusetts, clutching the handle of my ragged old rolling suitcase. The thing was covered in gaudy flowers, and it looked like it had been made from the bedcovers at a seedy hotel in the nineties. My ripped purple raincoat had been a last-minute purchase; being a native of San Francisco, I didn't know what to expect from the east coast. As I looked around at the many girls around me with their Luis Vuitton luggage sets, designer outfits, and manicured hands, I grimaced at the private-school-ness of it all. I had expected Salem to be different; what I wasn't counting on was a scene from _The Clique_.

"Scholarship," someone muttered when they saw me. I frowned.

"Soc," I hissed, grinning at my own literary cleverness. After following the signs to the school's shuttle, I was driven to a bus, which went to a forest, in which there was a school. It _looked _like a school, not like a castle, and I knew without a doubt that there wouldn't be any moving paintings.

America—land of disillusionment.

…


	2. There Is No Boys' School

There is no boys' school. _Are you fucking kidding me?_ There are no _dudes? _The fuck.

"Well, there were very few men executed for witchcraft in the Trials—I thought you would expect as much. Don't you know your history?" My dorm matron, a plump old bird by the name of Doris, glared at me like I was some sex-starved boy-crazy maniacal slut.

"Yes ma'am," I replied, bobbing my head respectfully and dragging my ever-protesting suitcase down the hall.

I had been surprised. There had been no meeting of new students, no sorting (not even a hatless one), and absolutely zero friendly introductions. I had been shown to the main office before I could so much as frown at one of the other new girls, and promptly sent off with Doris. Trying to interrupt the awkward squeaking of my suitcase's wheels, I asked her if the accompanying Salem School for Boys was anywhere nearby. Then she hit me with "There is no school for boys of the sort in these United States." That's just great. If there's a boys' school in some nearby country, it sure as hell better be in Mexico, because I'm _so_ not forming a wizard clique with Justin Bieber.

My room would be the one at the end of the hall. It'd be the one with the red door. Red doors are so goddamn mainstream when it comes to symbols—it's not even ironic enough to be funny anymore. The house with the red door: Next to Normal. Vampires or ghosts or something can't come into a house with a red door. Red is commonly referred to as the devil's color, and a red door is a sign of trouble within.

So, yeah… Apparently my roommate was not only a total nerd, but a nerd Barbie. As I walked through the previously mentioned door, the first thing I noticed was the wall on the left side. Robert Pattinson's face practically filled the entire surface. R. Patts and a huge Glee poster were hung up on a wall that had been painted pink on one side. Looking at my half of the room, I saw that _my_ walls were white, and that the pink paint apparently formed the barrier that told me to keep the hell off of her side. That and the carpet that looked like it was made of Elmo fur.

"Hey, you must be the roommate. I'm Luann!" a voice called out from somewhere in the fuzziness. In the center of the carpeted half of the room was a bed that combined the fluff of the carpet with the pepto-pink color of the walls. A rather petite girl with mousy brown hair lounged in the middle of this mutation of décor.

"Hi," I replied, hoping she hadn't noted the length of my pause. "Wow…that's…that's a lot of pink." Immediately she sat up.

"Please tell me you're not one of those dykish losers who are all like 'Omigod, pink is so gross, feminism blah blah blah'," she growled, glaring daggers.

"Nope, no dykish losers here," I muttered, tugging my suitcase over to the much more reasonable bed with the pale pink sheets.

"Thank _gawd,_" she said as she flopped back onto the bed. "I think we'll get along just fine. What's your name?"

"Bree," I answered, stuffing my clothes into the drawers under my bed.

"Bree what?" she asked, coming over to stand by the window in the middle of the room. The drapes on just one side were pink. She was thorough.

"Exactly."

"What?" she asked again, her light brown eyes getting a tad wider.

"Bree Watt. My last name is Watt." She rolled her eyes.

"I bet you pull that every time someone asks you," she muttered.

"Almost," I agreed, grinning. "Would you happen to have any office putty or something like that?" I asked, turning to face her.

"No. Why? Are you putting up posters?"

"Nah, I don't have any. I just like sticking stuff to other stuff." This is true.

"I have some extra posters if you want some. And like, tape and stuff." No thanks; one giant Edward face is bad enough.

"Um, I think I'm cool with the walls as they are, but thanks anyway." I turned and got out of there before she could tell me her list of rules, which most likely included more than one reminder not to touch her life-size cutouts of Twilight characters.

…

Feeling oh so excited to spend a year knowing that R. Patts was watching me sleep, I found my way to the common area, which seemed to be a room of couches and outlets with a fireplace thrown in.

"Summer is like a lover's dying breath. It is beautiful and tragic, and it always seems much more exciting when it's passed." I raised one eyebrow.

"Tell me about it, Hecate, life is pain." I climbed onto a couch and peeked behind it. Two blonde girls looked up on me, trying to stifle their laughter. Then one of them intoned, in a deep voice, "We are the daughters of Salem. Thank you for joining us, we were just about to pass the sacred tampons." The two collapsed into a fit of mirth.

"Congrats on the…tampons and dead lovers and all that," I replied, and they climbed over the couch.

"I'm Tansy, that's Lilac," the poetic one said cheerfully. "Please tell us you're not one of those 'dykish losers who hate pink'."

"Or one of those twitards who take it to the extreme," the other finished.

"Because we just cannot stand those witches that think they are supposed to be hippy goth ladylovers. Not that ladyloving is wrong or anything, but, you know, like, those people who talk about mother goddesses and fertility and stuff."

"That's nice," I mumbled, kind of confused and more than a little freaked out. "I'm, uh—going to check out the gardens."

I'm pretty sure this school is entirely made up of crazy people—and not the good crazy.


	3. Thank Gawd

It was hard being new at school; I knew that, of course, because it's a matter of common knowledge. What they don't tell you is how goddamn hard it is to be new at the same time as about 700 other people. I mean, sure, some of the new girls had older siblings, but that didn't mean they knew anything about where classes were and how to get there. I'd been exploring the gardens when a bell rang and everyone rushed out to the courtyard, waiting for the new student initiation to begin.

"I'm Pollyanna—from Proctor House. Where are you stationed?" A bright young thing in steampunk garb was looking up at me expectantly. I grimaced.

"Proctor House. That sounds…elite." The girl shrugged in reply, and her carrot-hued pigtails bobbed comically.

"I don't know. It's co-ed, though, so that's something." I gaped at her, openmouthed. "So, you're…?"

"Oh, um, I'm Bree, from Bishop House. What—there are guys here?" She grinned.

"Yeah, well, it's pretty hush-hush. There's only a few, and they can only be in the dorms named for men who died in the trials. There aren't any wizarding schools on the continent, so it's super hard to get in." She nodded at a hooded figure that materialized nearby. "Here comes trouble," she muttered, sliding her telescope-looking eye patch down. I looked over at the approaching figure. It was tall and gliding slowly over the ground.

"Is that a dementor or something?" I asked in a whisper. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter, and the figure reached up with two unmistakably human hands and removed the hood.

"Pollyanna, darling," the extremely gorgeous guy called out, waving. He hurried to where we were standing. "You wouldn't happen to know where I left my suitcase, would you?" He looked a little worried.

"It's under your bed," she replied, rolling her eyes. I simply stared in awe at the blonde Adonis-like figure before me. Pollyanna seemed to notice me staring. "Bree, this is David, my brother. David, this is Bree. She's at Bishop house." As I mumbled a hello, Pollyanna scrutinized her brother's attire.

"It's nice to meet you, Bree, but I really should be—"

"Are you not wearing any clothes?" Pollyanna asked suddenly, looking up at David in indignation. He blushed.

"Well I couldn't find my suitcase and I couldn't just wear the same thing two days in a row, now could I?" he stammered, pulling the cloak tightly around him. "I'm half invisible so it's not like I'm all scandalous."

"You are such a liar," Pollyanna replied. "And a slut."

"Don't be jealous," David replied, grinning wickedly. "It's not my fault I'm beautiful." Then he vanished.

"Your brother…he's really…" I started, before Pollyanna interrupted me.

"…hot, I know. He's also really gay, so don't waste your time." I frowned.

"I was going to say really floaty," I replied, pretending to be offended. "You're so quick to react, Pollyanna."

"Yeah, sure you were," she muttered, grinning a Mad Hatter grin. "And you can call me Poll."

…

The initiation ceremony involved a long speech by some old bat about the Salem Witch Trials—which I already knew all about anyway—and a few alumni talking about how fun our year would be, all while they slipped in vague threats and hints of innuendo.

"You're going to love this school," one bright-eyed girl in a purple dress twittered, blinking far too often. "Once you get higher in the system, you really _can _do _anything! _And I mean that, really, so make sure you're careful to show respect." We get it—if we bother you you'll squash us.

"What. Is that." Poll asked in awe, pointing at a chair near the stage. I leaned forward, trying to get a better look, when—

"Now, it is my privilege to announce our next speaker, Mr. Lex Hawthorne." There was a flurry of wild applause as an extremely handsome and well-dressed guy walked up the stairs to the stage.

"I heard that the members of the school committee dueled over who would get to shake his hand this year," Poll confided in a whisper. "Apparently he's a big deal."

"Hello, fellow students, members of the faculty," Lex Hawthorne said with a movie-star grin. "Twenty years ago, Headmistress Wardwell made the groundbreaking decision to allow my father into this school, starting the process that is slowly but surely leading this school towards integration of males into this fine program. Today it is an honor to announce that one third of the new students this year will be quartered in the new Proctor and Burroughs houses, which are dedicated to…" By then I stopped listening.

"Who is he?" I asked quietly. Poll pulled out a pen and wrote something on a piece of paper, which she then passed to me. It said "Alexander Hawthorne is some sort of big shot in the wizarding world and his dad died in some sort of tragedy or something."

"Now, if all of the returning students would file out the rear auditorium doors. Outside you'll find tables where staff members will hand you your schedules for the year. New students will return to their houses, exiting from the doors on the right side, in order to become familiar with your new surroundings and to meet your housemates. Your dorm matrons will tell you your schedules and show you where you are to go tomorrow on a map of the school."

…

"So. Lex Hawthorne." Luann blurted the second we walked into our room. "Dibs."

"You can't have dibs on a guy you've never met," I replied in annoyance. "Besides, won't R. Patts be upset if you're not, you know, a virgin, when you two finally meet?" I joked, hopping onto my bed and grabbing a bottle of nail polish from my bedside table.

"What Rob doesn't know won't hurt him," she scoffed, glaring. "C'mon, Bree, we're roommates. We have to establish the rules. Dibs counts."

"I think dibs is stupid. Anyway, he's a third year, and we're first years. If one of us has a chance with him—which we so totally don't—then that one should take what they're given without thinking about obeying girl code." She stared at me. I tried to make what I'd said sound less bitchy. "I mean, we just met each other, and it'd be silly to let a guy neither of us have met yet get in the way of what could be a great friendship." I smiled wanly. "Right?"

"Fine, fine," she answered, waving it off. "But, like, don't you totally wanna just _grab _his—"

"There's food downstairs, including cookies," Tansy called out, swinging the door open. "And there're brownies in Kayla's room for tonight, if you're chill with some witch bonding time." She winked.

"What?" I asked, confused why stuffing brownies had something to do with magic.

"They're pot brownies, Bree," Tansy snickered. "You're obviously one of those academic chicks."

"Gawd," Luann muttered.

…


	4. Twilight Soccer

I stood in my room, staring out the one window. Luann was snoring in her bed, and the girls in Tansy's room were still making vague giggling noises. Without thinking, I opened the window and leaned out into the night, feeling the cool wind on my face.

"Hey," someone called out from below. I looked down to see a group of boys.

"Hi…" I replied warily. Some of the guys in the crowd were vaguely familiar…I'd probably sighted them in passing.

"This is Bishop House, right?" I nodded, wondering what they wanted at such an hour. "Sweet," someone snickered, as a scantily clad Luann appeared in the window next to me, rubbing her eyes.

"It's cold, Bree. Close the…_Omigosh._ HI. I'm Luann." She leaned over the windowsill, giving the new arrivals a nice view of her lacy camisole.

"We're looking for Opal," the 'lead boy' scoffed. "You chicks are aware of her location, right?" I had never met a girl named Opal in my life.

"Coming!" we heard from somewhere inside the house. Out raced a petite girl with thick black hair that flew out behind her as she ran. The guys looked very excited, but not in a sexual way, so I had no idea what was going on.

"Let's do this," 'lead boy' said eagerly. It was then that I noticed the soccer ball, and I sighed in relief. For a moment I'd thought that something truly sketchy was going on.

"_Slut_," Luann hissed, crossing her arms and marching back to bed. "Who does she think she is?"

"I think they're just going to go play a game of twilight soccer," I replied defensively. If Opal was popular with the guys, I was willing to stick up for her. Luann brightened.

"Twilight soccer? Is that when you roleplay while playing soccer? Like, 'I'll be Alice and I have the ball right now! I can predict your movements so I win!'" The poor, confused girl looked at me hopefully.

"No." I frowned. "Not like that at all."


	5. It Can't Hurt to Try

I yawned, and the scent of fresh chocolate chip muffins wafted over me.

"Muffins?" I sat up directly, hopping out of bed and hastily pulling on my clothes. "Muffins!" I shouted at the lump in Luann's bed as I ran out of the room and down the hall. I skidded into the dining area, looking at Doris hopefully.

"Sorry, dear," she said happily. "No muffins. That's just the wake-up call." I stared at her in openmouthed shock.

"No muffins?" I muttered mournfully, looking at the bowls of oatmeal on the table.

"No muffins," Opal repeated, looking with distaste at her spoon. I sat down next to her.

"Isn't it considered torture to make people smell muffins and then _not _have them?" I asked, glancing at the petite, athletic-looking girl.

"I think they used similar tactics in Dachau," she replied, pouring copious amounts of brown sugar into the bowl of mush.

"MUFFINS!" Tansy and Lilac shouted in unison, shoving each other in their hurry to reach the table first. Then they stopped short, looking heartbroken.

"Oatmeal!" Luann shrieked in excitement, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. "That's so…wholesome!"

"What's wrong with you?" Tansy asked, throwing a blueberry at her. "WE WERE PROMISED MUFFINS!"

"You don't _get_ any muffins, and you'd better grab your books and leave as soon as you finish complaining—you're wasting all your morning free time." Doris huffed, returning to her office.

"Makeup!" Luann squealed, dashing back up the hall to our room. Opal snickered.

"Does anyone besides me want to head out and leave the pageant queen to fend for herself?" she asked, looking around the room. I shrugged, hastily eating my oatmeal and grabbing my huge stack of books. The four of us left Bishop House and headed in separate directions. I looked at the book on the top of my stack and saw "Intro to Magic" written on the top in shiny gold letters.

"Here goes nothing," I muttered, walking towards the most magical-looking building. On my way there, I saw Poll heading in the same direction. "Hey!" I called out. She ran to catch up with me.

"'Sup," she acknowledged. "This is the Magical Studies building, right?"

"I thought _you_ would know," I admitted. "Do you have Intro to Magic, too?"

"Yup," Poll replied. "with Professor Ellis."

"Maybe we should just go inside and see what's in there," I suggested. "It can't hurt to try." Shrugging, Poll followed me into the building.


	6. We Were So Not Late

The halls of the building Poll and I had just entered were lined with paintings. Anatomical diagrams and watercolor paintings of herbs and other plants were pinned up on bulletin boards throughout the corridor.

"Excuse me," I called out, waving at the nearest adult. A tall woman with frizzy red hair turned towards me expectantly.

"Yes?" she said impatiently.

"Um…would you know which classroom Intro to Magic with Professor Ellis is in?" I smiled at her hopefully.

"Room M205. It's on the second floor," she answered in a bored tone.

"Thanks!" Poll said cheerfully, and we headed up the short staircase.

"This building looks a lot like the buildings at the school I used to go to," I remarked. "And that one was public."

"I guess this is it," Poll muttered, pointing at the third door on the right. "Room M205."

"Hurrah, our quest is over," I grumbled sarcastically. "Now to dissect some mandrakes or something."

"We get to dissect mandrakes?" Poll opened the door excitedly, probably hoping to see some scalpels. Unfortunately, we were greeted instead by a classroom full of people and a teacher who'd just been interrupted midlecture.

"Names?" she growled, grabbing a clipboard.

"Pollyanna Heron," Poll said meekly, sitting down at the nearest empty desk. The dark-haired older-looking teacher glanced at me next.

"Bree Watt," I muttered, avoiding eye contact as I slid into the empty seat next to a goth chick.

"Well, Miss Heron, Miss Watt…You're thirteen seconds shy of lateness. That's almost a quarter of a minute, so I suppose you're not still in the vicinity of being late. However, a few seconds more and you would have had to suffer the consequences, which shall remain unnamed. I have no doubt that in the future, you will be in this room no less than five minutes before class starts." She glared down at us from behind her wire-rimmed spectacles. I just knew that class with her was going to be extremely fun. Not.


	7. Less Stupid

I slumped onto the couch.

"That was an experience," I muttered, letting my books slide to the floor. "Gawd, who knew witches were required to be math geeks?" Realizing that I'd sounded just like Luann for a moment, I grimaced.

"I see you've figured out why this school is so small and lacking in dudes," Opal announced, walking in and seeing my expression of distaste. "It's run by bitchy, menopausal monsters." She smirked.

"Where are they _keeping_ the dudes, by the way?" I asked in annoyance. "Every single class I have is, like, filled with chicks." I blushed, realizing I'd sounded kind of stupid. "Um. The academics seem very, uh…rigorous…" I mumbled, trying to regain lost ground. She probably thought I was an airhead like Luann.

"Yeah, you expect it to be all about magic and stuff, and it ends up being a haven for nerdy math geeks and gardening people," she replied conspiratorially.

"I just wish it was less…stupid," I muttered.

"Yeah," she replied, sighing. "Me too."

…


	8. Numerically Challenged Hottie

I was walking along, minding my own business, when a scroll materialized in front of my face. Knowing that it was probably something I was supposed to read, I grabbed it.

"If this turns out to be wizard spam, I'm gonna laugh my ass off," I muttered, unrolling it. It informed my that my aptitude for math as observed by my teacher had necessitated my being asked for assistance as a tutor to one of the less arithmetically inclined students.

"I think it means you're really good at math so they're making you help some idiot with her homework," Poll said helpfully after she finished reading the scroll over my shoulder. "You will meet your person today after school in the library to begin your career as an utter nerd." She smirked.

"Seriously, Poll," I growled. "This isn't funny. I don't have time to be helping some ditzy chick who probably has only a rudimentary understanding of basic single-digit addition." Realizing just how nerdy I'd sounded, I blushed and stuffed the scroll into one of the deep pockets in my robe. I didn't understand why we had to wear those stupid things anyway—but when I said as much, Doris reminded me that the original Salem witches had to wear super unflattering Amish-looking dresses, and then I stopped complaining. I was totally _not _excited to have to teach a Barbie™ math.

…

I was sitting at one of the tables in the studying section of the library, absorbed in my homework, when a fat Algebra II textbook fell on the table with a hearty thud just inches from my hand. I jumped and looked up in fury. There stood Lex Hawthorne, looking embarrassed.

"Sorry," he muttered, grabbing the book and sliding it over to the edge of the table. I realized that the offending tome had most likely slipped off the large pile of books that he was carrying.

"Um…it's okay…" I mumbled in reply, trying to get back to my homework and wondering where my tutoring person—or pupil or something—was.

Strangely, Lex remained where he was standing.

"You're Bree, right?" I looked up again.

"Yeah," I said cautiously.

"I'm supposed to talk to you about…" he grimaced, "…math…and stuff." I put my pencil down and stared. I was supposed to be tutoring Alexander Hawthorne. Alexander Hawthorne, who was not only older than me, but extremely hot, and apparently prestigious or something. Wow.

"…You're only in _Algebra II_?" I said finally, nearly kicking myself afterwards. He frowned.

"Yeah…I had to take Geometry twice…I passed with a C." He looked at me seriously. "If you can somehow figure out a way to make me less numerically challenged, that would be awesome." I blushed.

"Um…well…" I decided to just go with it. "Okay. Why don't we just start working on your assignments?"

…


	9. Cliffhanger Drama

Poll and I walked slowly towards the library.

"Lex Hawthorne?" she gasped. "And he thinks you're SMART?"

"I know, it's a miracle," I grumbled. "I almost transformed his pencil into a newt the other day, because I kept on mixing up Celtic transformation runes with algebraic equations. That hair is just so…distracting." I shook my head. "I thought I would be immune to his animal magnetism, but I must admit, I thought wrong."

"No one's immune to him," Poll said reassuringly. "He's dated half the school, and from what I hear, they all still like him."

"Well, I'm not going to be into him," I insisted. "Not if everyone else is."

"Riiiiiiight," Poll said. "'Lex Hawthorne: Too Mainstream.' Like that's going to last."

"Oh shush," I growled jokingly. "I have a lot of will power."

"BREE!" a snooty voice called out from across the grounds. I turned, grimacing in distaste, to see my roommate racing towards me.

"Yes, Luann?" I attempted a smile.

"Are you alright?" asked Poll. "You look a bit ill."

"Omgosh, Bree," Luann said breathlessly, screeching to a halt in front of me. "Y'know the first dance?" I nodded. "The one on Halloween?" I nodded yet again. "I'M GOING TO IT," she squealed with a strangely large amount of resolve, "WITH LEX HAWTHORNE."

"Yay!" I yayed, but I sounded less like an excited teenager and more like Fluttershy the Pegasus if she'd just been told that the other ponies were having a crush video film festival.

"I kay are?" she announced. Poll and I stared at her in utter confusion. Then it hit me…IKR. I was rooming with a girl that had forgotten how to use real words, and had henceforth started using text abbreviations in real speech. What a life.

"POLLYANNA!" a voice cried out.

"Wow, we're popular today," I whispered to Poll, giggling, just as her brother came racing up to use.

"You will never _guess_ who I _saw _with his royal Hawthorne hotness!"

"Sorry, but I'll have to end this conversation on a cliffhanger," I announced, grabbing Poll and performing a quick relocation spell. The next second, we were standing in the serene quietness of the library.

"Thanks for that," Poll sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Such drama," I whimpered in imitation of Luann. "Now let's do some calculus."


End file.
